


Clinic Hours Are When I'm Back From Work

by DustySoul



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire runs clinic from her home on days when she's not working at the hospital. There are plenty of people who need a check up they can't afford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Little Girl Who Might Have Asthma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saathi1013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/gifts).



> Gifted to Saathi1013 I don't even know why. I was thinking of you when I thought of the idea and I was thinking of you when I finally sat down and posted it. Is, "We both love Claire" a good enough reason?
> 
> PS The symptoms are based off of my own symptoms. I don't know if I have asthma yet. My brother does and my dad thinks he might. So he and I will get checked out soon.
> 
> This also might be better as a series considering that these are all unrelated one shots right now, but I really dislike long series that take up a huge amount of space in the character tag or whatever. And when they're less than 1,000 words a pop it ticks me off more. So that's why I'm using the chapter function FYI.

“So what does a docturs officeses look like?”

“You’ve never been to one?” Claire asks, examining the girl’s ear with a pen light.

“Naw.” The little girl swings her legs, methodically hitting Claire’s cupboards from where she’s perked on the kitchen counter.

“Well..” Claire says, finding that she’s at a loss, not even confident she remembers the colors of the walls. Or if they are constant through out the hospital. “It’s a small room, sometimes with a bed or sometimes with just an exam table. There might be some art on the wall but mostly it’s just drab. Big breath for me.”

The child breathes, in and out, dramatically expanding and shrinking. 

“You said you come to see me because you’re chest’s been hurting?”

“Yeah. Like it’s all squeezed up and sharp to breath, but only for a bit, and only when I move funny.”

“Show me.”

The girl contorts herself. “This one gets me if I roll out of bed wrong. And this one if I’m picking something up funny. Or jump onto a chair wrong.”

“And the PE teaches keep asking you if you have asthma?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Does anything else ever cause it?”

The girl thinks about it, feet thumping a different rhythm. “No. Not that I can think of.”

“Alright, well…” She turns to the child’s mom and switches to Spanish, “Everything looks fine. Lungs sound fine. If something changes about it, just let me know. If smoke or pollen or humidity…” Claire shrugs, “If something else triggers it or the tightness lasts longer than usual, let me know.” She repeats her last instruction back to the child, in English.

The girl mutters, “I understood you just fine.” And the mother laughs.

They walk out together, Claire’s last clients in her make shift clinic. After all, it’s not just vigilantes half beaten to death that need her help.


	2. Emery, Boxer's Frauture

“I saw you toss that dog over the fence.” Claire says to the sullen teenager sitting on her sofa. The girl is still not looking at her. Claire tapes the kids fingers to the splint.

“The mutt’s probably gonna die in a week or two." She says it like she might say, "It's going to rain this Saturday." or "That store's closed Mondays."

"The leg's definitely broken and probably infected. And after that one boy his it with that bat… I’d be surprised if it could even eat anything.”

"It probably already got hit by a bus. Stupid, reckless drivers." The kid mutters.

Claire lets the silence hang in the air while she starts examining the girl's other hand.

“Could you fix it?”

“Hmm?”

With a little more venom in her voice, though still not looking at Claire, she says, “The fucking dog, could you fix it?”

“I could try. _Will_ try. If you can bring me the dog."

The girl closes her eyes and sighs.

"What's so important about this dog?”

“Nothin’.  S’ just didn’t like watching it get chased. Wouldn’t stop whining, the damn thing. It was barely old enough to get around on four legs.” She grumbled. “Fucking boys thing they got something to prove, should pick on someone their own size. Not some dumb, sick puppy.”

Claire ducks her head, hiding her smile through an examination of the kids knuckles, split open and bruising vibrantly. “What’s your name?”

“Emery.”

"Well Emery, there aren't many people who'd stand up to those men like that. And even less who'd do so for a strange puppy."

"Puppy's aren't strange. It goes against their nature."

 

The next night Emery's standing out side Claire's apartment, a weak and battered puppy puddled in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
